


After the Fall

by sarahenany



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Snotfang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahenany/pseuds/sarahenany
Summary: Surrounded by puny humans, what's a proud Nightmare to do? Hookfang-centric take on the aftermath of the HTTYD1 battle and the wait for Hiccup to wake up. Inspired by an unposted story by Thursday26.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Stolen from Thursday's idea and used with permission.  
> 2\. If you're a fan of aftermath-fics, Queen_Bovine's "Conversion" on here is STUNNING. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133892  
> 3\. Big grateful thanks to Thursday26 for the beta. Seriously the best.

Marked-for-Death stares at the back of the big, horrid Viking-Alpha, who is hunched over Tiny-Viking. He’s holding his breath, only releasing it when he hears the Viking cry, “He’s alive.” The breath of relief is lost in the swell of the cheers from the nest of humans. Good. Another deep breath. Tiny-Viking is alive. It should not mean a single thing to him that a lowly _human_ is alive, but Marked-for-Death finds himself light-headed with relief.

 _Give him a chance,_ said the crazy Night Fury. _Give him the chance and he will show you something amazing._

Well, after the battle he’s seen in the skies, Marked-for-Death can’t argue that he witnessed something amazing.

The human whom Marked-for-Death allowed on his back is scurrying about along with the other Vikings. He was heavier than Tiny-Viking, but smelled more familiar, of blood and pain and urgency and longing. He smells a little bit marked for death, too. But his name – humans give always-names, not changing-names – is… Sna’lat? These human names are hard to remember.

Marked-for-Death stares some more. The Vikings are trying to tend to Tiny-Viking, who’s mostly obscured by the Night Fury and his hulking sire, but apparently he’s badly injured. They cluster around him. The Nadder and her little blue female crowd close, the big Viking with two limbs calling for something… sounds like “amp-tay-sh’n?” The Gronckle who says she likes Tiny-Viking hurries to him, closely followed by the round Viking who rode her.

Marked-for-Death turns away.

He’s free now. No more Queen, no more nest. No Vikings. No cell. No execution. He can go anywhere, do anything. Marked-for-Death is free. Not like that insane Night Fury, wrapped completely around his little human.

He feels strangely empty.

“Hey. Uh… Nightmare? Dr—uh… Dragon with the hooked fangs?”

Little Viking is looking at him. Not Tiny-Viking, the other one. Sna’lat. The way he’s looking up at Marked-for-Death, his eyes are just a little bit reminiscent of his dead clutchmate, Plays-With-Birds. She had the same wide, wondering eyes, a little diffident, a little fierce, a little eager. Marked-for-Death remembers the fear and awe and sheer joy in the human hatchling as Tiny-Viking took his hand and placed it on his snout. It stirred something in him. But more than that was the Sna’lat-human’s scent – not all loving-kindness like Tiny-Viking, but more poignant, more acrid. It made more sense, somehow, than the scent of that Night Fury and his soft human.

Right now, fear is pouring off Sna’lat: it’s all Marked-for-Death can scent. But he doesn’t fear being attacked – he fears _for._ He is fearing _for_ someone. He smells a little bit like Tiny-Viking. ‘Hiccup.’ That’s his name. Is Sna’lat Hiccup-kin? Is his fear for the little one?

…Why does Marked-for-Death find himself caring?

He realizes he’s tilted his head down and is staring at Sna’lat. The Viking fledgling swallows, then sticks his chin out. For a human, he’s at least got the basics right: don’t show fear. “Can you help pull a boat back to Berk?”

Marked-for-Death stares. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that.

The human’s still standing there. “Do you understand me?”

Marked-for-Death nods, snorting. Not understand, indeed! He rolls his eyes and is surprised to see the ghost of a smile round Sna’lat’s lips—huh, amused. Well, that’s a start.

“Yeah, okay, so, Hiccup, uh, he, that’s my runty little cousin over there,” _kuzin?_ What’s that? “…he has to have his leg… uh. Cut off—”

A sickening _thunk_ rends the air, drenched with the stench of blood. A human scream comes from behind them, twinned an instant later with a ragged, desperate Night Fury roar. Marked-for-Death cranes his neck. “Now, dragon!” roars the fearsome Viking Alpha, and the Night Fury aims a short blast at the bleeding ruins of the tiny Viking’s – _Hiccup’s_ – leg.

What? What? Marked-for-Death thought the Night Fury _loved_ that human! There’s steam and a hiss and a sickening stench and Marked-for-Death roars. “Why is he doing that?!” he screams.

Tiny-Viking convulses long and hard, then lies still with a final shudder. In the distance, the Night Fury is nuzzling him, crooning apologies over and over.

“It’s…” The little Sna’lat-human has his fists clenched and he’s staring at the ground. Marked-for-Death thinks the human may be losing water from his eyes. “It’s the only way to stop it bleeding out. I heard Gobber,” that’s the Viking with only two limbs and no head-fur, “say they would normally use boiling tar, but since there was a dragon willing to help,” Sna’lat swallows, his voice shaking like a hurt hatchling’s, “i—it would be cleaner and… and… waiting till we got back to Berk might t—take too long…” He’s shuddering now, shaking with human sobs.

Marked-for-Death – he’s going to need a new name soon, but that can wait – Was-Marked-for-Death-Needs-New-Name tilts his head, watching over the heads of the crowd. Toothless roars and yells “Careful!” at the humans lifting Hiccup onto a plank as if they can understand him. By the way they flinch and look at him with respect, maybe they get the gist. It’s hard to not find the sight amusing, despite the tone of the scene.

“That’s why…” Sna’lat has dried his tears and is squaring his jaw, looking up at Was-Marked-For-Death-Needs-New… oh, this is ridiculous. Needs-New-Name will do just fine till he finds something. “Why I’m asking you. If you’d help pull the ship back. Or we can find a raft, or build one… Just, anything! It’ll take hours to get Hiccup back to Berk by boat, and we need to get him to Gothi – she’s our healer, she knows everything – and we can’t put him _on_ a dragon, he’s too,” the human hatchling swallows, “too hurt… And so… Would you, dragon with the hooked fangs? Would you help?”

Needs-New-Name blinks. _‘Would_ you?’ That… that’s new. No human has ever made a _request_ of him before. Yelling, yes; commands, of course; any number of threats, naturally. But ‘Would you?’ is nothing he’s ever heard from humankind. Until today.

He looks down at Sna’lat. The young one is looking up at him with so much respect. Not fear – Needs-New-Name has seen fear enough times to know the difference. Yes, there was fear in their first touch, but also wonder and awe. On the _human’s_ part, of course. Not on _his._ And now, now the human’s regarding him with the respect due any intelligent, thinking, feeling being—

\--He’s hesitated too long.

“It’s okay,” Sna’lat says, shoulders slumping. “You’re a Nightmare, you have your pride. I wouldn’t let anyone make me pull a cart either. The Gronckle with Fishlegs already said yes, and I think Astrid’s Nadder too, but I’m not sure. They’re talking to the Zippleback now, so together they shoul—”

But he doesn’t get any further. Needs-New-Name roars. “WHAT? A Gronckle and a Zippleback? Do you want to arrive on your island _by the next new moon?”_ he snaps at the ignorant human. “You need a dragon with a _wingspan,_ not a _bumblebee_ and a _dragonfly!”_

The little human’s face lights up. “Does that mean you’ll help, dragon with the hooked—Uh…” He pauses. “Do you mind if… Is it okay if… Is it okay if I call you Hook-fang?” he says in a rush.

Needs-New-Name blinks. ‘Hook-fang?’

He rolls it around in his head and on his tongue. The human watches intently. ‘Hook-fang?’ It sounds good. Intimidating. But what if he loses his fangs? –Well, in that case he can find a new name. And Was-Marked-For-Death-Needs-New-Name _is_ really cumbersome… And the human _is_ asking with the proper respect…

Hook-fang inclines his head. Then, just to make sure the human knows he approves, he licks him.

The little one’s mouth falls open. He stares up at Hook-fang with unbridled awe. “Does—does that mean you _like_ it?”

Hook-fang rolls his eyes. And licks him again.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the human hatchling giggles. And _damned_ if that sound doesn’t make something unfurl in Hook-fang’s chest.

“Come on,” Hook-fang says. “We need to find this ship of yours. If the other dragons are pulling it, they’ll need me to lead them.”

Of course, the hatchling just stares up at him with all the intelligence of a grazing Buffalord. Rolling his eyes, Hook-fang lowers his neck and jerks his head. “Get. On.”

Sna’lat stares, a smile of wonder lighting up his face. Then he scurries to obey. But not before Hook-fang has time to wonder why that smile makes his heart feel so… _full._

* * *

It’s been a crazy few nights, Hook-fang thinks as he relaxes in the sunshine, nestled in the soft grass of their new nest. Berk, the humans call it. Berk-Nest.

The few people remaining on the human-nest – mainly older Vikings and human hatchlings – were shocked to see the boat being pulled by dragons, but the aged human healer calmed them. She seems, from what Hook-fang has seen, to understand more than she lets on. Tiny-Viking was rushed into her care, and apparently he’s not going to die just yet.

Hook-fang shouldn’t care, but he’s glad. The young one doesn’t deserve to die. Flies-Through-Storms spoke truth when she said Hiccup made his stand on the side of dragonkind, and he did it before all his assembled kin, too. Now he’s alone with time to sleep and eat, Hook-fang remembers. “I’m not one of them.” That’s what Tiny-Vi… _Hiccup_ said. And it doesn’t merit a reward of death, no matter _how_ honorable the death.

Living alongside humans… Now that’s been… odd. The Vikings throw themselves into co-existing with Hook-fang and his nestmates just as wholeheartedly as they did into fighting them. Feeding stations, overflowing with fish – _free fish!!! –_ are set up in the center of the village, where dragons can just… _eat._ No hunting, no fighting, no danger, no bone-deep terror you might starve today. The roofs of houses welcome perching dragons, the humans are friendly and those who aren’t are doing their best to be civil, and the sun seems to have decided to come out from behind the clouds and grace the world before the chill sets in.

Hook-fang _could_ get used to this.

He shouldn’t, of course – what’s next, being a tame dragon? Rolling over for belly rubs? Playing fetch like a Nadder maybe? He’s a _predator._ He’s had to remind the little human – his name is Snotlout, he’s heard the humans call him by it often enough – of it once or twice. The fledgling seems to alternate between claiming to his fellow-Vikings that he can somehow control Hook-fang – which Hook-fang, of course, has to disprove immediately by blasting him – and treating him with a kind of admiring respect that does wonders for Hook-fang’s ego. Hook-fang has made it into a kind of game, counting how many times he can blast Snotlout before the little human finally tires of the game and leaves him. No human would stand for it for long. It’s only been a clutch of days, and he’s on four times already.

He still allows the young one on his back – he sees no harm in it, the other dragons have allowed the human fledglings to fly with them as well, and… well, there’s a certain pleasure in the fledgling’s unbridled delight at being airborne. Hook-fang has taken it for granted since he was out of the egg, but these forked animals have spent their lives land-bound, and …well, he admits that it feeds his ego to feel the wonder and awe in little Snotlout every time he takes him into the sky. –But then the human goes and ruins it by preening to his peers about Hook-fang being ‘his’ dragon, or even worse, saying he’s Hook-fang’s master, and then he needs to be shown that you can’t own a dragon. So Hook-fang blasts, and flies, and keeps count of how many blasts it’ll take to make the human leave.

Meanwhile, Hook-fang is acutely aware of another, more uncomfortable fact: having defeated the old queen, the reckless Night Fury who calls himself ‘Toothless’ is now Queen. Hook-fang feels the tug in his head and chest calling him towards the Night Fury, urging him to obey Toothless – what a ridiculous name! At least ‘Hook-fang’ is _ferocious!_

But that brings him to the issue at hand: Toothless isn’t sending out any commands. It’s as if he doesn’t know he’s Queen. Which is ridiculous. He’ll have felt the tug, just as all the other dragons did. Maybe he didn’t feel it because the Fire-Giant’s death coincided with that terrible fall he took – which wouldn’t have been so terrible if he had spread his wings, but then Tiny-Viking would have been burned to a crisp, and Hook-fang can’t help feeling relieved that he wasn’t – but later, after the ash had settled, Toothless would have felt it inside, the power to command the nest transferring to him.

Hook-fang snorts. To that _runt_.

Well, he’s not having it.

* * *

 

Mind made up, he strides across the village square to the Human Alpha’s home, where he knows Toothless – ridiculous name – is keeping vigil over the poor little human.

The buzz of the Queen’s proximity makes Hook-fang’s head ache. He can tell it’s because he means to offer Challenge. Well, smash that egg. He’s doing it. Determinedly, he noses the door open.

For a moment, he pauses. The stench of sick human is overwhelming. Threaded through it is an ache of worry. And both scents are bound together by the Night Fury’s blazing, desperate love.

Hook-fang swallows, taking a step forward into the dimness. It’s painful to push through the wall of pain and concern and misery. His inner eyelid flicks open, letting him see clearly the Queen, curled up between Hook-fang and the human platform where, by the scent, Tiny-Viking rests. What do they call it? Oh, yes. A _bed._

Hook-fang stares. Toothless must be able to scent his Challenge by now. Why is the Queen not turning to fight? Is he that confident in his strength, to remain with his back to a potential challenger? Is this his odd Night Fury way of asserting dominance? Or—Hook-fang nearly flames, but stops, knowing the human caves are liable to come crashing down in a fire—or is Toothless confident because he’s already bested Hook-fang in combat, back when he was marked for death and enfeebled by long captivity? If he thinks Hook-fang is weak, he’d better think again, that’s all. Hook-fang growls. “I am not going to pledge my allegiance to you.”

Still with his back to Hook-fang, the Night Fury speaks without turning. “Do I look like I care?”

“You’re not…” Hook-fang blinks. “You’re not going to force me to obey? Subdue my Challenge?”

“Why?” Toothless is still entirely focused on the bed. His voice is flat, hopeless. “I don’t want your allegiance.”

Hook-fang should be glad. He should be relieved. It’s what he wanted. Instead, he’s almost insulted. “You should. You are Queen now.”

“I never wanted to be. Without Hiccup, I wouldn’t be.” There’s that same flat, hollow ring to his tone. “Go where you will, Nightmare. Do what you want. Disobey. Leave. I won’t stop you.”

“I have a new name now,” Hook-fang says, puffing up a little. “I am called Hook-fang.” The Night Fury remains huddled, back to him, not acknowledging. It’s like he doesn’t _care_ that Hook-fang has a new name. “The small Viking gave it to me,” Hook-fang confesses, hoping to elicit some reaction. “And I accepted it.”

“Snotlout?” the Night Fury mutters. “He’s no friend to Hiccup. He beats him. Insults him.”

Hookfang finds himself bristling. “Your human gave S’n…” He pauses, rolling the name around in his head. “Your Hiccup gave Snotlout to me. He placed his hand on my snout. I saw the respect in his eyes. He is mine now.”

“If he touches a hair on Hiccup’s head… if Hiccup—” The Night Fury’s voice hitches. “Keep him away from my Hiccup. I will not have him hurt.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around your Hiccup, you know,” snaps Hookfang, finally reaching his breaking point.

Toothless whirls as Hookfang raises his voice, spreading his black wings and making himself large. “If you dare—”

Hookfang puffs himself up, a scale’s breadth from flaming. “I _do_ dare, and I—”

“DRAGONS!” The great human Alpha steps in the door with a bellow worthy of a Thunderdrum. “No fighting in the house! Take it outside!” He turns his odd pale face and red eye-fur toward the Night Fury. “I’d have thought you’d know better than to do this in a sickroom!”

And the Night Fury _backs down!_ He makes himself small and nods obediently. A dragon, obey a _human?_ Has the entire world gone insane? And the _Queen_ , no less? What sort of Queen commands this new nest?

Wait, why is Hookfang also making himself small and lowering his head? Why is he mimicking that cowed, subservient, submissive—Oh _curse it! Of course!_ It’s his instincts _,_ making him follow his new Queen. And his new Queen is this puny, servile excuse for a Night Fury? Time to fly away and find a new island far, far from…

…is that Tiny-Viking lying there so still and silent behind Toothless?

Hookfang shakes his head. His skull is throbbing like it’s endured successive blows with a hammer. His confusion swamps him entirely for a moment as the Viking-Alpha walks out, and the submissive Night Fury settles back down by Tiny-Viking’s side.

The human lies still as death, baby cheeks sunken, fragile skin reddened with scattered burns. He looks far too small for a fledgling - he’s as small as a human Tiny-Wing. His breath scrapes soft in his hatchling-chest.

His leg…

Hook-fang’s chest and stomach seem to lurch. The fledgling’s foot has been _burned off._

He creeps forward, appalled. No, no, of course it hasn’t, he tells himself sternly. This is the amp-tay-sh’n they performed on it. On closer examination, it appears to have been cut cleanly across. But there are burns peeking out from beneath the bandages, and Hook-fang remembers. “You burned it to seal the wound, didn’t you?”

Queen-emotions are stronger than a nestmate’s would be. Toothless’ blast of grief and guilt and regret almost makes Hook-fang stagger. “He would have bled out otherwise.”

“Don’t grieve.” Hook-fang has no idea why he’s comforting this soft Night Fury. “He’s alive.”

“Yes,” sighs Toothless, dragging himself closer to the bed.

Hook-fang frowns. Toothless looks not only exhausted from his vigil, but lethargic. “You can hardly walk. What’s wrong with you, Night Fury?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You’re dragging your feet.”

“Just the fall. It doesn’t matter.”

“Did you break something?!”

“No. No, I’m just bruised.”

“Bruised? Where?” Hook-fang strides over to the idiot runt and pushes his face into Toothless’ ribs. The small dragon hisses. By the Foreverwing… “Your ribs are _shattered.”_

“Don’t exaggerate.” Toothless shrinks away from Hookfang’s nose. “They’re a little bruised, that’s all.”

“Show me,” Hook-fang says, advancing. Toothless backs away and growls, but Hook-fang ignores him. For a moment he remembers his own much younger self, bleeding from an untreated wound as his mortally wounded clutchmate Always-Eating took far too long to die. Hook-fang was a stupid hatchling then, too immature to end the little one’s pain and tend to his own self. What’s _this_ idiot’s excuse?

Hook-fang lunges for Toothless. Just as he suspected: too thin, too light. It’s far too easy to pin him. He’s careful, but even then the sudden movement draws a squeal of pain. “Just bruised, eh?”

He keeps Toothless pinned under a wing, ignoring Toothless’ growl, and noses down his side. The injuries were already obvious, but this close, the Night Fury’s cracked ribs are showing, bumpy ridges of bone beneath the skin. Toothless could push Hook-fang back with his Queen-Voice, but he hasn’t, so on some level, he must know Hook-fang is right. “Maybe a little cracked,” the runty dragon concedes.

“You fell on the rocks,” Hook-fang murmurs, remembering. “You took the brunt of the fall on your body,” he’s not even sure why he’s saying it, “to protect him.”

“Yes,” Toothless says, fire in his eyes and in his voice. “And I’d do it again. And die for him, and gladly, too.”

“You’re an idiot,” Hook-fang says. “No human is worth it.”

He gasps at the scent that comes off Toothless: _warm nest sweet grass wind thrill bright sky love joy snuggles on cold winter nights._ “Whatever you say,” says Toothless calmly, still pinned under Hookfang’s wing.

“Arguing over this will get us nowhere.” Hook-fang lifts his wing a fraction. “You’re not taking enough care of yourself, Night Fury.”

Toothless relaxes onto his side, biting back a groan. “They’re already better,” he assures Hook-fang.

Hook-fang tilts his head, considering. That has the ring of truth: perhaps the stories about speedy Night Fury healing aren’t entirely myths. But his ribs are too visible… “You haven’t been eating.” Hook-fang states it as a fact, not an accusation.

“I have.”

“Not enough.”

“The humans bring me food.” The Night Fury sounds defensive.

“Well, they clearly don’t bring you enough.”

Toothless narrows his eyes. The threat is a little weakened by him being flat on the floor. “Is this going to be another rant against humans?”

Hook-fang doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, he turns his attention inward, to his crop, and tenses his muscles, horking up the gulletful of fish he was saving so he wouldn’t have to make a trip to the feeding station at night.

“Hook-fang!” Toothless gasps, like a prissy Wind-Rider keeping her nest just so. “The humans don’t like fish on the floor of their house! _Especially_ fish that’s been in someone’s crop!”

Hook-fang lifts his wing completely off the runty Queen, takes a step back and smirks. “You’d better eat it then, hadn’t you?”

The way Toothless inhales the food, like he’s starving, makes Hook-fang even more determined to bring him food in dragon-sized portions. Maybe he can enlist the others: Flies-Through-Storms and the softhearted Gronckle seem to like Toothless well enough. That way he won’t have to see Hook-fang every day.

…is Hook-fang _staying?_

Well, all right, he’ll stay. After all, Hook-fang still hasn’t finished the game of counting how many times his human hatchling will accept being flamed before he walks away and finds another— Well, and it makes sense to stay where there’s free fish and friendly humans and most of his old nestmates. And his—not _his_ Queen except in the most technical sense, really, and the runty Night Fury has just _said_ he doesn’t expect obedience from Hook-fang—but well, ‘his’ queen in the sense that Toothless _did_ defeat the old queen, so, yeah, in that sense, Hook-fang’s Queen lives here, more or less. Sort of. Not that he _owes_ Toothless any allegiance. But he might as well stay, anyway, to see if Hiccup pulls through. It’s not that he’s invested in Hiccup personally, but… It would be nice to see a wounded hatchling survive. Even a human hatchling. It would be… satisfying. Hook-fang’s seen too many hatchlings die. Too many. Thinking on it makes Hook-fang feel like Marked-for-Death again.

“Toothless.” Hook-fang’s head shoots up at Hiccup’s pitiful human murmur. “Toothless…”

“He wakes! Night Fury! He _wakes!”_

Toothless shakes his head, drooping. “No. He talks in his sleep. I’ve heard it many times before.” Even though he looks resigned, Toothless pads over to the bed and nuzzles, very gently, the hatchling’s scraped and reddened face. “I’m here,” he croons. “I’m here.” The affection in his tone and scent is astounding. Hook-fang has never sensed such love before, from any dragon. A runt the queen may be, but he has a great heart. Maybe even… no, it’s silly. He’s far too tiny. But the power in the runt’s loving scent pushes the thought like a whisper into Hookfang’s mind. _The heart of an Alpha._

“Toothless…” the human whimpers. His sleeping face turns toward the Night Fury, and when his cheek meets Toothless’, he smiles, although his eyes are still closed. “Glad you’re safe, bud…”

Toothless lets out a whine. Hook-fang has never heard such pain from any living creature in his life, and he’s buried his clutchmates and watched his parents subjugated by a madman. “I’m here,” Toothless manages to choke out. “Please wake, Hiccup. You did so much. You paid so dearly. I’ll always be here with you. Just… Please, please, open your eyes.”

But Hiccup sleeps on. Toothless makes another soft sound of anguish, then starts to lick his face. It’s plain to see that for Toothless, there is nothing in the world right now but his little human.

Hook-fang watches them. His chest feels constricted, like he can’t breathe. He takes a silent step back, then another. Maybe he should leave this island. He doesn’t want more death, more pain. And he doesn’t belong here anyway. It’s not like anyone would sit by Hook-fang’s bed and mourn… if dragons had beds… What is he even thinking?

A strong human scent stops him in his tracks. He recognizes it and turns his head, almost knocking over some metal Viking-object. “Snotlout?” he asks out loud.

“Hookfang?” Snotlout asks. He says the name more smoothly now, and Hook-fang – Hookfang – likes the way it trips gracefully off his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

Hookfang tilts his head. “I could ask you the same thing,” he says.

Toothless has lifted his head now, and is growling low and deep in the back of his throat. Hookfang quashes his urge to obey his Queen, and puffs up with an answering rumble.

But Snotlout puts out both his hands, pawpads out, in what Hookfang now knows is a human ‘I have no weapons’ gesture. “Hey, easy.” He encompasses Hookfang in his glance as he says his next words. “I’m just here to – uh, to visit Hiccup. I want to see how he is, that’s all.” Toothless keeps growling, and Hookfang’s about to ask him who he thinks he is when Snotlout adds, “And I want to tell him I’m sorry. For… uh, for everything.”

Toothless’ defensive posture relaxes. He lowers his wings and shoulders and tilts his head, pupils widening. “If you regret what you did to him… I might start to forgive you,” he says.

The human can’t understand him, but he nods. “I promise, all I want to do is apologize.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a bit, Night Fury?” says Hookfang. “What could this little human have done to Hiccup?”

“This _little human,_ as you call him,” Toothless snarls, making Snotlout jump, “beat Hiccup bloody. Many times. He tormented him and insulted him, bullied him and broke his spirit…”

“Hiccup?” Snotlout is standing next to the bed, and the way he looks down at the sleeping human is a lot like the way Hiccup’s sire looked when he thought he was dead. The horrified recognition that he took something precious and crushed it. The terror that it may be too late. And, Hookfang thinks with a pang, it’s possible that it _is_ too late. The hatchling might yet die. But he hopes not.

“… _really_ sorry, Hiccup.” Snotlout’s been speaking human speech for some time now, and Hookfang only really focuses on what he’s saying when his voice hitches. Oh, no, he thought Snotlout was less of a sentimental mess than the other humans! …But his maybe-kin is lying at death’s door. Perhaps Hookfang can concede that he has the right. “…be nicer to you, I promise. Don’t—don’t make it too late. Please. Wake up?”

Toothless tilts his head and croons, “Listen to your cousin, Hiccup.”

But Hiccup lies there unmoving. Hookfang snorts at the pair of them, standing there wishing for Hiccup to wake up. Yeah, Hookfang wished for his clutchmates to survive, too. If wishes were wingspans then Slitherwings would fly. He doesn’t know which of them is more naïve, Snotlout or Tooth—

Wait, what’s Snotlout doing? He’s bending to lick Hiccup’s forehead. –No, wait. That’s not a lick; he’s doing something strange with his mouth? Pressing his lips to Hiccup’s brow. Hookfang can smell that it’s meant to be a lick, though. Maybe this thing with the lips is the human way of licking someone they care for?

Snotlout brushes his hand over Hiccup’s hair, then draws in a deep breath and huffs it out. He straightens like he’s been stung, hands fisting at his sides. “You _better_ wake up so I can make it up to you,” he snaps, taking a step back. “You hear me? You can’t die like this! I’m sorry, okay? You don’t have to fucking _die_ to punish me! I swear, if you don’t wake up,” he goes on, moving in toward Hiccup and taking him by the shoulders, “I’m going to…”

Even Hookfang can hear the threat in the hatchling’s tone, so he’s not really surprised when Toothless growls and spreads his wings. “Get your hands off him,” snarls the Night Fury.

“Okay! Okay!” Snotlout raises his hands with a healthy fear. “Sorry! I wasn’t gonna hurt him, honest!” He moves quite away from the bed, up against the wall.

“It would be the last day of your life if you did,” Toothless says evenly, eyes narrowed and pupils slitted.

Snotlout seems to understand. “Okay. Okay.” He keeps his hands held up, _no-threat._ “I just wanted to say I was sorry. Honest.”

Hookfang feels a little bad for the human’s fear, but he can’t really fault Toothless: if Snotlout had gone on to shake Hiccup, only the moon and sky know what kind of damage he would have done to the fragile little invalid. But Snotlout’s backing down now, so Hookfang feels justified in bristling just a little in his human’s defense.

“Stand down, Night Fury,” Hookfang commands. Toothless’ ears perk up and Hookfang knows he can hear the change in his tone. For the first time since he entered the hut, Hookfang is not just advising or tussling: he is _commanding_ Toothless as though addressing an equal, or even one beneath him in the hierarchy. It’s worth suffering the pain and fear of Queen-Wrath to stop Toothless attacking this fragile human. Snotlout’s not injured, but he’s just as fragile as all the rest of his species. “He will not harm your Hiccup.”

The words out, Hookfang crouches submissively and braces himself for the flattening, all-consuming mind-punishment he knows is coming, the misery that only a Queen or an Alpha can inflict.

Two things happen at the same time. Snotlout looks at Hookfang with those wide hatchling eyes and says, “Hey, are you feeling okay, Hookfang? You don’t look too good.” And Toothless, instead of punishing him, takes a deep breath _(what a human gesture! Did he learn that from Hiccup?)_ and submits – well, complies, anyway. Ignoring Hookfang’s Challenge, he turns back to his human and licks his cheek, eyes full of sorrow.

Hookfang roars, but it comes out more like a groan. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This is too much! Why isn’t _anyone_ acting the way they’re _supposed_ to? This must be the beginning of the insanity his sire said would come of associating with humans! He turns to Snotlout, blinking. “Are you worried about _me,_ human?”

“What? Did I – is this some kind of private dragon talk? I don’t wanna, uh, intrude – you just, you looked, uh, unhappy or, uh, sick, and I don’t know anything about dragons but I thought I’d just ask, like if you needed something or…”

By now, Toothless has turned his head toward them and is staring as well. As for Hookfang, he feels his eyes might fall out of his head. _Private dragon talk?_ A _human,_ showing _respect_ for _dragons?_

“Out.” He shakes his head and nudges the human out of the hut. “Shoo, now. Out.” If he’s not careful, he’s going to actually imagine that the human might – might, in time, care whether Hookfang lived or died. That would be a big mistake.

“Okay. Okay. Just, uh, holler if you need me or, uh. Kay. Bye.” And Snotlout scurries out.

Hookfang turns back to Toothless. It’s just as well Snotlout is gone. He understands that Toothless has been waiting until the human left to inflict the mind-penalty. It’s kind of him to wait: Hookfang doesn’t want the human to see him weak and suffering and punished, doesn’t want Snotlout, who’s offered him the respect and awe due a mighty dragon, to pity him. And Snotlout _would_ despise him if he saw him brought low and whimpering – maybe wailing, depending on how strong Toothless’ mind is.

Hookfang sets his jaw and lowers his head back to the wooden human-floor… But Toothless already has his back to him. And Hookfang remembers what the human’s actions shocked him into forgetting: that Toothless _submitted_ to Hookfang’s command. He obeyed. As if Hookfang were the higher dragon, and Toothless a lowly flockling.

“Night Fury!” Hookfang hisses, as though he might be overheard.

Hookfang’s eyes are submissively downcast, but even so, he can tell Toothless isn’t looking at him, but at Hiccup. “Hmm?”

“Aren’t you going to…” The words stick in Hookfang’s craw, but he forces them out. “To punish me?”

“What?” Toothless nuzzles his hatchling. “What for?”

Hookfang presses his chin harder into the floor. “For my Challenge. For speaking to you without the respect due a Queen.”

“Oh, for the love of—Do you seriously think I’m going to enforce that? ‘Respect?’” He licks his little one tenderly. “Who _cares?!”_

 _“You_ should care!” Has this dragon no pride at _all?_

Toothless caresses the tiny Viking lying motionless on the bed. “I have… more important things to worry about.”

Hookfang’s breath catches. Toothless isn’t going to punish him? Isn’t he going to impose _any_ penalty for this Challenge? “Night Fury!” Hookfang snaps, raising his head. “You must not ignore your own status so!”

Toothless has pushed his head underneath his human’s birdlike arm, and even from here Hookfang can smell the ache of loneliness, the sharp scent of Toothless’ anguish that the little one isn’t waking up. “Why not?” he murmurs, not really sounding interested.

“Anyone could insult you! Anyone could treat you with disrespect!”

Toothless’ eyes remain fixed on the rise and fall of Hiccup’s chest. Such sorrow fills his eyes that Hookfang snakes his head forward and gives Toothless a nuzzle. Toothless finally shrugs. “So what?”

“‘So _what’?!”_ Hookfang pulls away, sputtering. “What do you mean, ‘so what’? A Queen should be respected! Should be revered! Should be feared. Like our old…”

Hookfang trails off. Into the sudden silence that has fallen between them, Toothless says quietly, “I thought you’d be glad I wasn’t like him.”

“He was a monster. You could not be like him even if you tried. But _weakness?!”_

“I will _never_ become him. Or anything like him.” For the first time, Hookfang hears fire in the soft Night Fury’s tone. “Even if it means the dragons of this isle think me weak, I’d rather have them think I’m weak than have them fear me.”

“But… but a queen should be feared,” Hookfang stammers, an axiom long memorized.

Toothless shudders. “I don’t want to be feared. I never asked to be Queen.” He pauses for a moment, eyes darting to his hatchling. “Maybe I should not lead.”

“What?” Hookfang squawks, then settles his tone into something more reasonable. “Night Fury. You came into your power legitimately, and the dragons of Berk-Nest _need_ a queen. There will be squabbles that require arbitration, lest fighting dragons tear each other apart. Would you have them kill each other? The humans have a chief. You can do no less for your flockmates.”

Toothless falls silent a moment. It’s clear he never thought of that. Finally, he nods. “You are right, Nightmare.” He speaks slowly. “I will settle disputes. I will resolve problems and be there if a crisis arises. But I will never…” His eyes rise to Hookfang’s in fear. “Night— _Hookfang,_ I will do nothing, _nothing,_ you hear, that would make me become him.”

“You could never become him,” Hookfang says, tone even.

Toothless’ ears perk up. “What makes you say that?” he says hopefully.

Hookfang almost feels bad at what he’s about to say. Almost, but not quite. He lets his smirk show, narrowing his eyes in amusement. “I know Night Furies are the unholy offspring of lightning and I don’t know what,” he drawls, “but unless it’s escaped your notice, there _is_ a bit of a… _size_ _difference_.”

And Toothless _giggles._

It’s undignified, unbecoming! He’s never seen a Queen or an Alpha laugh, never mind this undignified hatchling-giggle. But… it suits Toothless. Hookfang finds he’s laughing too. “What’s goin’ on in there?” asks a passing human outside. Toothless’ eyes meet Hookfang’s, and they’re suddenly rolling about on the floor, roaring with laughter.

When Hookfang staggers to his feet, he feels cleansed. Toothless does the same, pupils wide, smiling broadly. “It _had_ slipped my mind, Hookfang,” he grins, stepping close to his human and nuzzling him again. His smile fades a fraction, but his tone is wry. “Now that you mention it, though… there _might_ be some size difference, yes. Only a little, you understand.”

Before he can reconsider it, Hookfang moves closer to the sleeping human, head lowered to dispel any hint of threat, and gives Hiccup’s face a quick lick. “I’m still not your flockling,” he warns Toothless. “But just in case… if anyone threatens your little one…” He licks Toothless’ human again. “They’ll know I protect him too. Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to go through me.”

Toothless’ eyes are so wide and soft they look like they might fall out of his head. They make something ache in Hookfang’s chest. “Shut up,” Hookfang mutters, though Toothless has not said a word. “I’m only doing this because he saved us. –You, too,” he adds, like an afterthought. What else might he say if he keeps looking into his leader’s dumb, sentimental eyes? ...Wait— _leader?_ “You are _not_ my leader!” Hookfang snaps.

Toothless just lowers his head, resting his chin on the bed under Hiccup’s arm. His ear-flaps twitch _amusement_. “Yes, Hookfang. Whatever you say, Hookfang.”

Hookfang stops himself flaming at the last instant. “Are you _mocking_ me?!”

Toothless’ eyes squinch up. “…Yes, Hookfang. Whatever you say, Hookfang.”

“Huh!” Gathering as much dignity as he can muster, Hookfang whirls and storms toward the door. The breathing he hears behind him is definitely _not_ Toothless’ laughter, or else he’d have to fight him.

“Say hello to your human for me,” Toothless smirks as Hookfang noses the door open.

“He’s not _mine!”_ Hookfang snaps. He steps outside and nearly stumbles over his—over _Snotlout,_ standing there like a lost hatchling. _“WHAT?!”_ he roars.

“I just…” Snotlout stammers, holding out the biggest salmon Hookfang has ever seen. It smells delicious, and Hookfang’s just emptied his crop. Dragons alive, where did the human get such a gigantic specimen? The thing’s almost as big as him. “You seemed… I thought you might want a, uh…”

Hookfang snaps up the offering, cutting him off. He won’t be bribed with fish, if that’s what the human’s thinking. He’s never going to consider the human _his._ But only a fool turns down fresh salmon. _Mmm,_ that is _delicious!_

“Wanna go for a fly?” asks Snotlout, training those damned hatchling eyes on him again. But then some other Vikings walk by. The human’s scent changes, piercing. Like a damned _idiot,_ he puffs up his chest, strikes a pose and tries to put a foot on Hookfang’s neck. Like he _owns_ him.

Hookfang bursts into flame. The human shrieks and falls onto his behind. The passing Vikings point and laugh. Snotlout pats out the flames on his clothing and rolls to his feet. There, Hookfang thinks with some satisfaction. Public humiliation the fifth. _Now_ the silly little human will gather the shreds of his tattered pride and leave. After all, he’s only a human.

Snotlout plants his feet and folds his arms. “Crazy dragon,” he grumbles. “Okay, _now_ do you wanna go for a fly?”

Hookfang blinks.

* * *

The setting sun gleams off the burnished gold of the sea around Berk-Nest. Hookfang’s mighty wingspan means he hardly has to work at all to glide on the gusts whipped up by the wind buffeting the rocky isle. Every so often he’ll glimpse a fish under the glittering surface, and dives to snap it up, ignoring the human’s shrieks as he gets soaked. Might as well show him what it’s like to be frien—to be in the company of a dragon. So he won’t say later he didn’t know what he was getting into. So he can’t say Hookfang didn’t warn him.

Hookfang soars up, up into the blinding blue and gold of the great dome. There’s a wild whoop of exhilaration from the human on his back. The young one’s thrill at flying reminds Hookfang of his own days as a fledgling, climbing the air for the first time, shrieking in unbridled delight at his own success. The joy of flight seems to thrill through Hookfang, pumping joy and power into his veins, making his wings a little bit lighter, a little bit freer.

Hookfang isn’t like Toothless. He doesn’t need a human on his back to fly. He can leave any time he wants. Any old time. He’s not trapped here. There’s nothing keeping him on Berk-Nest. He feels sorry for Toothless, bound so completely to his human. Toothless doesn’t seem to mind, but that’s just his temperament. He’s soft and sentimental and…

Hookfang sighs, catching a thermal, feeling Snotlout humming contentedly at the swirl of warm air. Toothless will probably make a good Queen, against all expectations. Crazy dragon. Allowing Challenge to go unpunished. Crazy human, for that matter, letting Hookfang take him into the air when he could so easily let him fall.

The sun dips lower to the sea, turning the water the shade of Gronckle fire. Crazier than even Snotlout is Toothless’ human, hitching himself for life to a Night Fury, pledging his life to making him fly again. Hookfang has clearly landed in an island of maniacs. He should get out while the getting is still good.

And he will. As soon as Hiccup wakes up. And Snotlout finally decides he’s had enough of being flamed. And Toothless heals. Hookfang winces at the thought of the battering the Night Fury’s body took. Stupid he may be, but he’s loyal. Selfless. Devoted. Good traits for a Queen.

A sound floats into Hookfang’s heart, making his chest vibrate like a purr. The human on his back is making a soft, melodious croon, a little like a Deathsong’s tune, only more pleasing to the ear. A human, sounding like one kind of dragon and flying with another. Just proves how crazy and unpredictable humans are. Hookfang should leave before they turn on him.

The strange human melody fills his ears, twinning with the sigh of the wind past his horns and the sun setting in the sky and the little warm weight on his neck. Yes, he’ll leave. Just as soon as he counts how many times it will take to make Snotlout abandon him. And once he’s arranged fish for Toothless. And made sure Toothless isn’t going to follow through on his crazy idea of leaving, which he will if Hiccup doesn’t live. But he’ll live. Yes, he’ll see it through that Hiccup survives and make sure Toothless finds his feet as Queen, and take care of the other stuff, then he’ll leave.

Yes, Hookfang thinks as he banks around Berk, then he’ll leave for sure.


	2. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from "How to Start a Dragon Academy."

Missing scene from "How To Start a Dragon Academy," the very first RoB episode. I think it went pretty well with the previous piece, so decided to link them. Stands alone, though.

* * *

_Caged._

_Caged caged caged caged caged._

It's all Hookfang can think, rattling around in his head like a dead hatchling in a ruined egg. He's a proud Fire-Scale, he shouldn't be lurking here in the cage, cowering behind the other dragons. He should be in front of them, plotting a way out.

If he hadn't gone in willingly.

Damned, stupid, manipulative, sick human hatchling with his damned, sick, manipulative, Gods-damned eyes! And Hiccup for making the dragons' Queen go along with this dung! And all the other dragons for trusting their humans! And himself for allowing it, for allowing himself to go along with the others instead of making a break for it, so they would have someone on the outside in case their humans abandon them. Even Snotlout said it was better for Hookfang to stay outside the cage.

But that's just it, isn't it? That the human said it. And looked at Hookfang with those damned hatchling-eyes. "I won't make you, Hookfang," Snotlout whispered to him. As if he, or any human, could make Hookfang do anything! How presumptuous! "Go ahead and fly away. You don't…" his little voice had cracked a bit, "…have to come back. I can't ask you to go back. Not," Snotlout looked at the cage and swallowed, "not in there."

Hookfang nodded. It made sense. At least his human had his priorities right. His human's eyes were so earnest, so blue. Like Plays-With-Birds' before she died. He was taking a breath – to voice his agreement, to say his goodbyes, he's not sure – when Snotlout continued, whispering too low for humans to hear. "You know I'd never let them keep you in there… I'd get you out, no matter what they did to me." Like Hookfang needed a human to let him out! "But," Snotlout continued, "I don't want you to be scared."

Hookfang can still remember how he bristled. "Scared?!"

Snotlout fixed those wide hatchling-eyes on him. "You don't have to pretend with me, Hookfang." As if the youngling could begin to understand a dragon! "I've felt the way you tremble when we fly over the arena and…"

Hookfang still remembers how loud he roared. Snotlout fell on his backside as Hookfang flamed. "TREMBLE? ME? I'm not scared of anything!" he thundered. Even if he was, a bit. How could he show fear to a human? The reputation of dragonkind was at stake!

Snotlout's voice rose. "They had you locked up! They were going to kill you!"

Hookfang swatted him with his tail – perhaps a little harder than he usually does. "Kill me?! You think they would have killed me! I'd have leveled your puny little human-village! Maybe I still will!"

"Hooky… it's okay to be scared…"

And that was the last straw. "Scared. I'll show you scared!" And with that, he marched into the cage.

But then the door clanged shut, and it was cold iron in Hookfang's soul, remembering the last raid. He was thrown into this selfsame cage, hungry, tired, exhausted. Defeated. At least someone brought him fish back then, for the Queen would have spared him none…

He shakes his head. This is no time for stupid memories. Even if the walls are dank and gloomy, and even if he keeps remembering Hiccup's fearsome sire – well, fearsome for a human – and even if he does keep thinking of Viking iron killing-things, at least he has the consolation of knowing he salvaged his pride with little Snotlout. And the consolation of Meatlug purring at his right side and Toothless purring at the other—Wait—"What are you purring for?" Hookfang hisses. "They turned on us! Just as I said they would!"

"They would never turn on us," Meatlug says softly. "And we're purring—" Hookfang just catches Toothless' scent saying no no don't! —"to comfort you."

"He doesn't need comforting," Toothless says hurriedly, but it's too late. Hookfang bursts into flame and turns on Meatlug, determined to repel this insult. "Hookfang!" Toothless continues, not in his Queen-Voice but with a sort of petulant whine. "Is this really the time?"

The other dragons turn to them from where they were watching at the bars. "It's always the time for Mister High-and-Mighty," drawls Barf. Stormfly snickers. Snickers!

"Thinks he's the most powerful dragon," Belch adds.

Hookfang strides up to them, still on fire. "And I would be delighted to prove it."

"Yes, Hookfang. Very scary," Barf recites, monotone.

"We're very scared," Belch chimes in, in the same flat tone.

Hookfang flames higher. "I ought to—"

"Stand down," says Toothless quietly, but Hookfang, Barf and Belch stop in their tracks. It doesn't sound like a command, but the voice of reason.

It only makes Hookfang angrier. He turns on the Night Fury who's only now remembered he's Queen. "Where was this authority when the other dragons were wreaking havoc on the human-nest?" Hookfang snaps at Toothless. "Snatching food, relieving themselves everywhere, setting things on fire… Couldn't you have used your Queen-Voice to control them? Avoid this whole mess?"

"I told you," Toothless says evenly, all his breath rushing out of him, "I would never be like our old Queen."

"Besides," Stormfly cuts in, "what will they do when he is not there? Better the humans find their own way of coexisting with us, lest the next Queen not be so human-conscious."

Hookfang mutters under his breath. They're not wrong, not really, but… "Yet they've turned on us and put us back in cages."

"I don't know about you," Stormfly tosses her head, "but my rider told me to run. I stayed for her. She wanted me to escape."

Meatlug raises her head, eyes widening. "Mine too!" she says to Stormfly. "I decided to stay as a show of good faith."

"Ours suggested we blow up the arena," Belch confesses.

"As a show of good faith," Barf adds helpfully.

"Hiccup wanted to take me and run," Toothless admits softly. "Or keep me out and stand up to his sire together."

Hookfang looks from one to the other. Stand up to Hiccup's sire, the Human Alpha? Hookfang would think twice about standing up to his own sire, never mind Hiccup's. It sounds way too – well, not frightening, just… risky. "Mine too!" he snaps. "Your riders aren't so special."

"They all care about us," says Meatlug softly. And she's above him in the hierarchy, older, more experienced, so he can't dismiss what she says.

Hookfang growls under his breath, the sound just shy of disrespectful. "Yeah, that's why they turned on us and locked us up," he retorts. "I always knew no good would come of trusting a human."

Stormfly tilts her head. "You could have left. Why didn't you? You came into the cage of your own accord."

"Perhaps I wanted to see how this fiasco would end. Wouldn't do to let you die alone."

"And perhaps you trust your human," Barf says with a sidelong glance.

Hookfang's on the Zippleback in an instant. "First, he is not mine. And second,  _never trust a human."_

"Stand down," Toothless says wearily. When Hookfang clambers off Barf and Belch – and their giggling is not helping – he finds himself herded to the back of the cage again, surrounded by purring dragons.

"I don't need  _comforting!"_  Hookfang snaps.

"Then maybe you could start purring to us," Toothless suggests. "We're nervous. A large dragon's purring is always soothing to those smaller than him."

That's the thing about Toothless-Queen – he treats Hookfang with the proper respect. Hookfang tries to muster a purr, concentrating hard as the dragons cluster about him, listening to the humans outside. He can't listen, though. He's got to prove to the others that he's not frightened.

...Why can't he get himself to purr? His breathing is coming too fast… his heart is thundering… He pauses, flaming softly at his lowest temperature. The purring of the dragons surrounding him help calm his nerves. He tries and manages a few vibrations, but then it cuts out. He tries again, and is rewarded with a rumble from his chest.

And just as suddenly as it closed, the door swings open. Hookfang can tell, by the joy-relief swamping him, that they're not taking them out to be killed. Toothless bounds out, immediately locked into a disgusting embrace with his shameless rider. Meatlug, Stormfly, Barf and Belch – he stares at them locked in similar embraces. Have they no dignity?

Then he sees Snotlout. Little ridiculous human with his wide blue eyes and fierce diffidence. Running toward him, face filled with naked emotion, hatchling-eyes full of…

Hookfang bounds forward and snatches his rider up in his mouth. That counts as a reunion, right? At least, it's as much emotion as he feels like showing. He might as well show little Snotlout who's boss if he's going to stick around here. At least for a while.


End file.
